The Journey Home
by Autumn Harvest
Summary: "...I turn to find no one there. I am alone, in a field full of graves..." After Shishio's defeat, Kenshin travels the path of redemption.... *Slight* spoiler for the OVA's included... one-shot


**Standard Disclaimer applies here**

The Journey Home 

  


A dull thud echoes in the distance.  
  
Footprints appear in the wet mud, though not a figure can be seen... all that's left in its wake is a thin film of white mist, weaving through the countless columns and rows...  
  
They creep closer to me, thinking they'll have their way without my knowing. It's scary, seeing.... and nearly believing...  
  
They jump out, a hair's distance away. Their presence chills me to the bone. A flash of light blinds me, and suddenly the sun's gone. No fading rays to indicate the warmth's departure; the wind has ceased its plaintive howl.  
  
The shadows continue to advance.  
  
A watchful eye,  
  
A careful hand.  
  
I turn to find no one there. I am alone, in a field full of graves.  
  
Something falls limply from my hands, splattering a few droplets of mud. I look down to realize it was a bouquet that had fallen from my nerveless fingers. The flowers were few and small, but delicate nonetheless. The sweet scent of white plums filters through the dead air, as my breath catches.  
  
For one moment, the past is the present; memories that I've locked away in my mind unravel, weaving a story that is too horrible to ever imagine...  
  
The images...  
  
I blink my eyes, before stooping down to retrieve the precious bundle. Resisting the urge to thrust the flowers at my shadows, I walk.  
  
Time seems to have frozen... as if my heart ceased to beat.  
  
Carved of flawless stone, its long, thin shadow is cast over my own, covering me. Its presence almost threatens to swallow me whole...  
  
Unyielding.  
  
Without a care...  
  
How I use to be.  
  
How I still am.  
  
How I will always...  
  
It starts to rain again. The rain seems to always find my company, in the best and more often, worst of times. The wetness fell upon my cheeks as I cried; I had cried then, and I shed tears even now. The rain had threatened to drown out my very existence, just as it had the first time the scent of white plums neared my physical being...  
  
It was so clean.  
  
I know better though.  
  
My hands tighten around the delicate flowers.  
  
I close my eyes and make my ears deaf to the stillness around me. Quiet conversations, gentle laughter, silent tears... they all coming flooding back, just as they always do. With a small, sad smile, a hand reaches out to touch my face where my flesh was, and still remains marred...  
  
Something sweet reaches for me, offering a comforting caress. For a fleeting moment my burden has lightened. A smile even dares to grace my features.  
  
Then I feel as though the earth drops from beneath me, upon the realization that it is only I who stands alone. It is my own worn hand that soothes my scars.  
  
My eyes begin to tear at the thought of that warmth and love being taken away - before I realize again, that it is just I who stands before her grave.  
  
The scar, which was to be a harsh reminder, a terrible burden...  
  
Has become a blessing all the same.  
  
I remember... and accept... but the pain does not lessen.  
  
It would be better if I smiled more often - genuinely.  
  
If not for me, then for the sake of the one that waits for me.  
  
Her tears are now the cause of my sorrow - not those that had fallen from another so long ago...  
  
I realize that I am no longer clutching the bouquet, as if it were my last tie to life, but instead have laid it down upon the smooth grave. With a soft nod and a silent prayer, I rise from the dirt, and turn to walk away.  
  
They're waiting for me - more importantly, the one person who has shed tears for me...  
  
I continue on my way, leaving the past behind.  
  
Not once did I look back.  
  
My shadows cease their journey. With each step I take, the sound of my footsteps echo loudly against the brick layer of the walls. Perhaps it was some sort of declaration.  
  
A declaration of freedom... and perhaps, forgiveness.  
  
I can hear them now - their voices do not fall on deaf ears. Their words are soft at first, barely distinguishable. As I close the distance, however, their bits of conversation become clearer.  
  
I can finally see them. Excitement rises in volumes, and the faint scent of jasmine waifs through the air...  
  
I stumble; a stone has gone out of its way to make me tremble even more so than I already have. A gasp of surprise, before the beautiful sound of her laughter ringing free.  
  
There is no other sound more refreshing.  
  
The laughter of the dead cannot compare to the tears of the living; I've realized that now.  
  
I've also realized... I am finally home.

  


**Owari**

  
  
Koneko-chan's note:

So... what do you think? I've been told that this piece resembles what could have been a prologue to the TV series, or even an aftermath of the Kyoto Arc (well, it kind of is... ) so I was pretty pleased. This piece was written as an original (it started off with one line that kept running through my head... ), but as I went along I realized that I could alter it slightly to become an RK fic.... there are a few subtle (I hope!) differences in terms of weather, scenery, etc from the TV series... but I hope it didn't rattle anyone's world.

Thanks for taking the time to read. It would be appreciated if you also took the time to review =)

Neko


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